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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29521128">what beauty is for</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudofaux/pseuds/pseudofaux'>pseudofaux</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Samurai Love Ballad: PARTY, 天下統一恋の乱 | Sakura Amidst Chaos | Samurai Love Ballad (Visual Novel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Other, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, fluffiest smut I have ever written, just soft soft soft love happy boning, let! them! love! each! other!, they've been pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:54:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,848</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29521128</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudofaux/pseuds/pseudofaux</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>She calls him both names, and each time he hums agreement against her lips and tangles their bodies together what infinitesimal more he can manage. His only name for her is Hana and when he says it, the word is prayer and thanks both.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>[Sogo/MC first time.]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Main Character/Mitsuba Kaede | Mitsuba Sougo, Mitsuba Kaede | Mitsuba Sougo/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>what beauty is for</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was written to fulfill a request on tumblr for Sogo finally getting to bone, "guilt-free and happy". MY PLEASURE 2 DELIVER! heart heart heart</p><p>Title taken from a line from Mary Oliver's <i>The Swan</i> ("And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?").</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>His hands are full of her bottom, and her hands are full of him: a palm splayed out over his chest, the other curled so perfectly around where he has ached for her for as long as he can remember. She herself is curled around his back and their bodies have made summer mugginess between them, sticky, sultry. Hot as her mouth, open on the join of his neck and shoulder. Her kisses are messy and enthusiastic and if she had not asked him to stay right there, he would turn and kiss her, <em>hold</em> her, immediately.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But she did ask him to stay right there, so Sogo will stay until he truly can’t. He’ll hold her as he can, he will grip and appreciate her beautiful curves in his hands, grateful to finally touch at all. She feels better than dreams ever dared suggest.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her touch isn’t practiced, but the sureness of her love is in every stroke and he’s letting all the gasps she pulls out of him go freely into the air, wants to give her everything she is due for the way she makes him feel. He knows no more of this intimacy than what was required, and just underneath the sensation her work-roughened fingers dragging up and down his length, he remembers every time he wiggled out of any mission that called for true seduction, and the true reason why.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He <em>wanted</em> it to be with <em>her</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re so beautiful,” she murmurs, and just as her words bound him, they now free him. He lets go of her and gently but immediately pulls her hands from him and leaves her arms. Only so he can turn and go back to her. Only ever so he can go back to her. He takes her hands from where they wait in the air and cups them around his face. He wants her to touch him everywhere, like this. He holds her cheeks just the same, mirroring her touch as he puts their mouths together.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They kiss forever, he thinks the states must be unified by the time they are done. They breathe into one another, moan and whimper into one another, and they undulate their bodies toward one another like the wave pattern on his favorite kimono. He can nearly smell the primal salt of the ocean. Like meeting tides, they crest together, recede, reunite. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>With one important exception, he feels soft against her. “Hana,” he pants into her mouth. “Please.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She keeps one hand cradling his face, but the other traces down his body-- loving his nipple and navel on the way with light, curious flicks-- and takes hold of him again. He’s not ashamed to cry into her mouth at the feeling.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Ka-- Sogo,” she begs. “Me, too.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He will <em>never</em> make her beg if he can help it. It is his honor to mirror her again, thumbing the sacred heft of a nipple and the dip in her adorable tummy before he sightlessly finds her hair, then her heat. Cups it like the treasure it is. Hotter and wetter than her mouth, and the very thought makes him kiss her again, lick into her mouth like he can replicate what he is touching.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She calls him both names, and each time he hums agreement against her lips and tangles their bodies together what infinitesimal more he can manage. His only name for her is Hana and when he says it, the word is prayer and thanks both. She is so slick over his fingers, so powerful as her hips tuck themselves toward his hand. When he curls two blessed fingers inside her she makes a bird’s beautiful, startled song and shakes in place, and he kisses the side of her mouth, her jaw, and asks in a whisper just at her ear if it is okay.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>Yes</em>,” she sobs. He will never make her do that, either. Not in any way but this, not for anything but joy. Her hand is slack around his leaking cock and even aimless, it feels like holy wisteria, like a soft cage of <em>shide</em> that he would be lucky to make his home. She doesn’t even have to move. All he needs is for her to be, and let him love her at last.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There’s a tide inside her, too, a pulsing and relaxing, and when he realizes she is doing it on purpose he feels his cheek inside her hand and the way it hurts from his own gladness.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I love you,” he whispers fiercely. “I have loved you for such a long time.” His need for this to be understood has him switching fingers so he can use his thumb to roll her like a bead, and he’s torn in a frantic way between letting up so she can talk-- she’s trying, she’s trying so hard, he wants to kiss her again-- or do his best to nurture that magnificent keen in her throat, the one that trips over notes but always sounds beautiful to his ears.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She manages to gasp out that she loves him, and her slack hand suddenly squeezes and he gasps, too.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He doesn’t know what to do. Stay and spill all over her hand? Hold her close and grind against the impossible taut softness of her rear? Of course he wants to be inside her, but a part of him wants to linger in this lovespace before he dares.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sogo,” she pleads. “More. Inside, please, <em>please</em>. All of you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It may put their lives in danger, but he doesn’t think he can deny her anything anymore. He doesn’t think he would live if he tried. He hates to slip his fingers out of her body, but she has asked for something else that he can give, so what he needs to do is give it to her. He puts the sticky hand on her hip instead and pushes her onto her back. One of his knees finds the futon in the space between her legs, then the other. It feels like home and it feels like a festival. Known and new.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She has one of her hands clutching at a breast, and the other is reaching for his cock again. He hisses when she finds it and he goes where she pulls. He will follow her anywhere. The futon by her shoulders is in his hands now and he doesn’t have to worry about bruising it, so he squeezes with the ferocity he doesn’t want to unleash on her body.</p>
  <p>His words are made a jumble in his mouth by overwhelming arousal but they are important, so he keeps going when they fail the first time. “Sweetheart,” he says. She is dragging his cockhead through her folds, holding it against her clit as she moves herself against it. Her determination makes his eyes roll back, but he can feel the way her hand trembles. So he asks “Are you sure?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She drags him down again and pulls him closer. He is just about to stop her when she says “I’ve been sure for such a long time.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He reaches for her hand and takes it away, lacing their fingers by her head. He touches the tips of their noses together and slowly, carefully begins to push down with his hips, trusting where she placed him. He’s right to do so. There’s a moment right away when he has to stop because the warmth and pressure and slickness make him dizzy, but he doesn’t want to break their eye contact for anything in the world. It’s important to him that they be connected in this way.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Kaede,” she says, and he sees when she flinches just a little, as though she’s made a mistake. He’ll have to remind her that he doesn’t mind it at all. She can call him anything, and he knows she loves Kaede.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m right here,” he says softly. “Yours.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She squeezes the hand that holds hers, and puts the other around his shoulders. “I love you,” she says. Her legs shift, feet sliding up the bedding to widen his space.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The words are not enough, but he tells her he loves her as he presses just a little more, then a little more after that. He pulls back, feels her shuddering and the way it shakes him all the way down to his own toes, and then presses forward again.There is a terrible desperation to look, to <em>watch</em>, the thought makes him throb so hard he feels her body stop him. But the most important thing in the world right now is her, and he wants to see her face, wants to keep her eyes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They blink and that is the only break in the way they watch each other until he is as far as he can go inside her body. She squeezes his hand one more time and gives him a little smile.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s perfect,” she whispers.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re perfect,” he says, and the joy he feels will make him cry if he doesn’t vent it out of his body. Some of it escapes as a wet laugh.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It pulls the rest with it despite his effort. He’s crying, and she is, too, and they are holding one another, squeezing and testing the ways their hips can move together as they gasp and kiss. She gets her legs over his calves and they are wound together like a cord made of fulfillment, tight and tender, overwhelmed and in love.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He can’t describe much more than that. There’s heat and joy, a sense of falling without fear, and all the while her hand in his where he has wanted it to be since the very first time he saw her eyes. He knows from the way she grips the back of his neck and grinds against him grinding on the top of her sex that she is about to come, and when she does he presses as deep as he can and holds still. There is a frantic fluttering along his length that he thinks must be life itself, and he thinks he can see it in the pulse of her throat, too.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She encourages him to keep going, and at first he is slow but the magnificent, comfortable drag of her is too much. He speeds up and then pulls out. Her hand is on him immediately, and he covers it with his to move as he needs until he splatters on her belly with a choked cry of bliss and disbelief.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Instantly they are all wrapped up with one another again, the mess little different than the sweat between their bodies before they started. They kiss each other’s eyelids and cheeks and trade hushed praises. He can’t stop squeezing her close, he wants to press himself against her and keep her safe <em>always</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tomorrow they’ll have to face the changes tonight made for them. The changes are not small, but they are worthy, important, <em>crucial</em> ones. And until the sun forces them to do differently, they face and know only each other.</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! I'm on tumblr as pseudofaux and on twitter as pseudofauxtome if you'd like to say hi. :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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